


Love Me Tender

by SpangleBangle



Series: Thominho Week 2016 [7]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Day 7 - Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Public Display of Affection, Sewing, The Great British Sewing Bee, Thominho Week 2016, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7307584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 7 - Domestic.</p><p>Minho picks up a new hobby and runs with it, while Thomas encourages and watches fondly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Wow here have some disgustingly fluffy adoring husbands to round off the week. I had a real blast this year, and I hope we have another thominho week with even more people participating :D Hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I did writing and reading everybody else's works. Have a great one guys :)

“Aw no! Not her!”

Minho looked up from his book at Thomas’ shouting from the other room.

“Come _on_!”

“Thomas, you okay?” He called.

“No!” Came the annoyed reply. Minho closed his book and walked through to lean on the doorjamb.

“What’s the shouting for?” He asked and ran a hand through Thomas’ hair where he was curled up at the end of the couch.

“They only just sent off the most talented sewer in that room, just ‘cause she had a bad week,” Thomas explained sourly.

“This your sewing competition thing?”

“Mmhmm.”

Minho rubbed gently through Thomas’ hairline behind his ear. “It’s just reality TV, Thomas.”

“But she was my _favourite_.”

Minho smiled at the contrast of his wedding ring against Thomas’ hair. “What was this week again?”

“Lingerie.”

Minho snorted. “And you care why?”

Thomas swatted vaguely at his arm. “It’s interesting to see how they’re constructed. And what each contestant creates for the brief. It’s male tailoring next week though.”

“Really? Like, full suits?”

Thomas hummed assent and closed his eyes as Minho kept stroking gently through his hair. It was quite some time before Minho spoke again.

“I might watch with you next week, if you don’t mind. I know it’s kind of, _your_ thing.”

“I don’t mind,” Thomas murmured drowsily.

“Are you falling asleep on me, shank?”

“Mm…”

“Come on, let’s get to bed. My book was being boring anyway.”

As they lay cuddled up together in the dark, tucked tightly into the other, Minho had a bleary thought before he dropped off: _Thomas would look really good in a suit…_

_Three months later_

“Where’s my unpicker?” Minho muttered through a mouthful of pins. He searched through the riot of cloth, pattern paper, scissors, pins, tailor’s chalk and soft sand paperweights until he found the little tool. With a grim expression, he set to ripping the seam of his new project apart with careful precision. The pattern wasn’t matching the whole way down the piece, and while Minho was still very much an amateur, he didn’t want to settle. He wanted his projects to be as amazing as he could possibly make them.

“How’s it going?” Thomas called from the kitchen, where he was making dinner and fresh bread for them both.

“Crooked again,” Minho replied.

“Try going slower on the pedal,” Thomas suggested.

“Will do,” Minho said.

“I’m sure they won’t mind if this teddy bear isn’t perfect, love,” Thomas called again. “You’ve only been sewing, what, two months now? You’re doing great.”

“It’s a birthday present for their kid, I don’t want it to be shabby,” Minho protested. He grunted in satisfaction as the last stitches separated and he plucked at the cut threads until they fell out of the demolished seam.

Thomas came through, wearing his apron and a tired smile. He put his arms around Minho’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

“Don’t stress about it, love,” He said into Minho’s hair. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

Minho leaned back into his husband’s arms and put down the miniature waistcoat and trousers he was trying to engineer with the pinstripes matching in parallel lines all the way down. “I’m having fun,” He said quietly. “I just want it to be good, as well. I can see it so clearly in my head, it’s frustrating when my hands can’t do it right.”

Thomas leaned further down to kiss softly down his neck. “You’re really improving, Minho. Two months ago you could barely sew a button on a shirt. It’s okay to want to develop your skills, but don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re still learning.”

Minho sighed and let his head loll, enjoying Thomas’ attention and the smells of garlic and rosemary on his hands.

“The suit looks really good to me, anyway. Why not take a little break?”

Minho grinned, eyes half-closed. “Uh huh? How long until the bread comes out of the oven?”

Thomas’ lips dipped lower to press against Minho’s collarbone. “Mm… maybe ten minutes?”

Minho made sure all the pins were out of his mouth and hands before standing and pressing Thomas into the wall, prompting a little laugh. Thomas’ arms snaked around Minho’s waist and pulled him closer as they traded long, slow kisses. Their lips slid across each other in lazy pulls, sharing breath and heat. Thomas’ nose nudged into Minho’s cheekbone and they smiled into each other. Minho inhaled deeply to enjoy the smells of Thomas’ cooking and his shampoo, so very dear to him. His mouth tasted like the cooking wine he was using in the sauce, as if he’d tasted it to check it hadn’t gone off in the cupboard. Minho pressed him gently into the wall, using his bulk and weight to his advantage as Thomas sighed and curled around him contentedly. Thomas’ hands rubbed into the small of his back and he breathed out slowly through his nose with a little hum, ghosting over Minho’s cheek. Minho ran his hands slowly but firmly over Thomas’ arms and sides, the familiar shape of him more like home than the photos on their mantelpiece or the crockery they’d had since first meeting at university, chipped and mismatched but still good all these years later.

Thomas pulled back just a hair, their mouths parting with a soft pop, and shifted his hips so Minho’s thigh slipped between his legs. Thomas felt Minho’s silent laugh in a huff of breath across his chin and Minho leaned in to mouth at his neck, his own pulse quickening. Minho dragged his lips over his hot skin, tongue following unhurriedly. He closed his teeth gently over the spot and sucked slowly, making Thomas tilt his head back.

“No bruises,” Thomas sighed happily and dug his fingers into Minho’s back.

Minho murmured agreement into his skin and kissed over his neck instead. His hands were large and gentle on Thomas’ hips, always so careful of his strength. Thomas remembered the way they’d fumbled together, so afraid of hurting or pressuring or being laughed at, so long ago when they first started loving each other. He thought that although they might not be screwing around like embarrassing teenagers anymore, he would take this slow knowledge and well-earned affection any day. Knowing exactly what the other wanted and liked the most, from years of living together and understanding the other so intimately. He pressed his lips to Minho’s temple fondly and tightened his arms. Minho held him close and they breathed quietly together in a close embrace of affection and love.

Minho smoothed a hand over Thomas’ hip and smiled into his shoulder. He was so lucky, really.

Eventually, the oven timer started beeping and they let each other go, both a bit flushed and much happier for their tender dalliance.

“I’d better get back before the bread burns,” Thomas smiled and ran his hands down Minho’s chest.

Minho kissed his jaw with a fond smile. “It smells great.”

Thomas cupped Minho’s cheek and stroked his cheekbone affectionately. “Don’t stress too much over the sewing, okay?”

“I think I’ll just finish it by hand,” Minho decided.

“It’ll be a real couture teddy bear then,” Thomas said with a smile.

“You bet, it’s gonna be the most stylish teddy bear you’ve ever seen,” Minho grinned confidently.

 

_Four months later_

Minho held the bolt of fabric up to the light and squinted. “What do you think?”

Thomas refrained from sighing – to him, it looked like all the other selections of dark blue cotton they’d been looking at for the past hour. His feet hurt and his arms were already loaded down with bags full of material and thread and gadgets. He couldn’t begrudge Minho, though – despite literal hours at this convention, he was just as over-the-top excited as he had been when they first walked in the doors. He couldn’t stop beaming and talking to everyone else there (largely middle-aged ladies), exchanging project stories and tips and tricks. Thomas felt his heart clutch a little every time Minho smiled; it was happening a lot.

Thomas leaned up a bit and kissed his cheek firmly.

Minho jumped and grinned bashfully. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Thomas smiled. “I like that one a lot.”

“Really?” Minho seemed to bounce as his gaze darted from between Thomas’ smile and the fabric. “I like the feel of it more, and it tones better with your skin.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Thomas asked slyly. Minho had been dropping hints for some time now and Thomas was no longer allowed into his sewing room – formerly the study – without knocking on the door first. He kept expecting Minho to give up on keeping it a secret and just tell him, but he was being extremely secretive about the whole thing.

“Nothing,” Minho replied sweetly and gave him a quick kiss. “Anyway, let’s move on. Sorry, I’ve been dithering for ages and you must be so bored. Wanna take a break?”

“I think I saw a coffee stand in the south corner. And I’m not bored, not really. It’s worth it to see you so happy.”

Minho grinned down at his shoes, his smile positively dazzling with how purely _joyful_ he was. “Aw, Thomas.”

Thomas noticed the stallholder was trying to tactfully appear as if she wasn’t a witness to all this. “Isn’t he sweet?” Thomas put an arm around Minho’s waist as he addressed the lady. “Look at him, so happy and cute.”

The lady laughed at Minho’s embarrassed expression. “You two certainly seem to be having fun.”

“I’ve not been sewing very long, less than six months actually, and it’s difficult to get fabric and advice where we live, there aren’t really any craft or hobby stores around,” Minho chatted happily. “So this convention is really great, even if it’s a bit out of town.”

The lady smiled kindly. “Well, is there anything in particular you’re looking for? I’ve been sewing for, oh, thirty years now. What sort of project is it?”

Minho was about to excitedly reply when he glanced at Thomas. “It’s kind of a secret.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and patted Minho’s back. “I’ll wander off for a minute, then?”

“Sorry,” Minho grinned. “You’ll find out soon, I promise.”

Thomas shook his head fondly. “Okay, I’m going to get coffee from that stand over there. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

“I could never,” Minho teased lightly, eyes shining as he rocked a little on his feet in excitement.

 

_One Month Later_

 

“Thomas, oh my God,” Minho muttered, blinking rapidly at the sappy message in Thomas’ card. “Thank you so much.”

He admired the new watch he had immediately put on after unwrapping it, holding it up to the light and watching the little hands and gears move around under the transparent face.

Thomas propped his chin on his hands and smiled. “Happy Anniversary, love.”

Minho beamed at him, apparently lost for words. It didn’t happen very often. After a few moments of wrestling with his brain, he just held his arms out. Thomas chuckled and hugged him tightly, rubbing between his shoulderblades.

“I really love it,” Minho said. His voice was muffled in Thomas’ shoulder as he clung tightly. Thomas kissed over whatever parts of Minho’s face and neck he could reach until Minho started giggling.

“Okay, okay, now you gotta open yours,” Minho grinned, lightly pushing Thomas away. “I’ve been working on it for ages. I really hope you like it.”

“Is this your secret project?” Thomas asked, eyeing the opaque dry-cleaning cover on a hanger over the door, with a foil bow applied on top. Minho had already tried to apologise about not wrapping it better but Thomas really didn’t care. He’d been wondering about this for months and he just wanted to see what was under the obscuring cover.

“Mmhmm,” Minho looked a bit nervous now it was time to unveil it. “I’ve never made anything like it before, so, um, I hope it’s okay. I worked really hard on it.”

Thomas kissed him reassuringly before getting up to unzip the cover. His breath caught in a quiet gasp and he let the cover fall to the ground. “Minho…”

It was a suit. A fully tailored, gorgeous suit. Trousers and jacket and waistcoat and everything, in wonderful complementary blues and greens, in beautifully-matched stripes and hatches in quiet tones. Not too flashy, but it wouldn’t let Thomas sink into the background either. Thomas knew he would look extremely snazzy wearing it. He ran his fingers over the fabric and recognised it from one of the many picked up at that convention. He took his time admiring it, from the wooden buttons to the lapels, to the pockets and hems on the trousers, the crisp darts and shaping throughout.

“Do you like it?”

Minho was biting his lip and looking a little ill from nerves. Thomas nodded rapidly and started stripping off, uncaring about the open curtains. Their neighbours had seen much worse. He pulled on the suit almost reverently and smoothed his hands over it. It fit him snugly, tailored bespoke to flatter and compliment him. There was so much attention to detail – from the slightly contrasting stitching on the cuffs, to the hand-worked finishing touches and little flourishes.

Minho was looking at him critically. “How’s the fit? Is it good? I kind of guessed most of the measurements, I hope it’s okay.”

“Minho, it’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you. I love you. So much.” Thomas stammered.

Minho blew out a rapid breath of relief. “You really like it?”

“I love it. Come here, you big softie.”

They held each other tightly again, surrounded by a little bubble of joy.


End file.
